Title: Definition of Degree
By: Read 300300
PG-13
Pre-slash Nick/Greg.
Dislclaimer: I don't own. I never said I do. Well, there might have been that one time in my sleep where it came out as something like, 'Such a good slave, little Nick. I own you and your tight -cut for language-'
Summary: Set after incident with Nigel Crane. [Greg half-joked, "Now that we're living together, you can see my body any time you want."]

"You don't have to look at me like that, you know-" Greg smirked as he unwrapped the towel from around his waist and used it to partially dry his hair off, the muscles of his arms rippling as he gracefully moved them. He half-joked, "Now that we're living together, you can see my body any time you want."

Even the small joke couldn't make the older man look away, his glasses half-way pulled down in shock and the book he had been reading held limply in his hand, almost as if he didn't quite believe the sight in front of him. The long, lean planes of Greg's body were covered in drops of water that kept sensuously sliding down, thier movement only barely distorting the expanse of smooth skin. His dark eyes followed the well-toned arms as they moved the rough material over the damp locks of hair; he was unable to take control of his own body long enough to excuse himself from the room while Greg dried off and dressed.

He hoped that Greg didn't notice, didn't see, but -really- how could the younger man not notice the way the eyes roved over his light skin as he dropped the towel and began to pull on a pair of pajama pants? He knew that it was wrong to be so captivated by what was in front of him, but he couldn't seem to help it.

Any hopes that he had about not being detected became moot as a hand removed the book he was holding and another grabbed Nick's wrist, pulling it up until the older man's hand rested lightly on one of the still-wet patches of skin.

Trembling slightly, he allowed his fingers to move, ghosting up and over the man's abdomen to a hard pec; his thumb circled the small nipple, and Greg let out a lazy sigh of contentment.

Nick, coming back to his senses, pulled his hand away as though he had been burnt, his body now tense with a dark sense of nervousness. His eyes flickered upwards just long enough to notice the laughter in Greg's mirroring eyes.

He held his body still as Greg leaned in, the younger man's voice low and deep as he whispered.

"Touch doesn't have to be for purely sexual means, Nick. You can be sensual for someone without being sexual," Greg murmured, knowing from the way that Nick leaned ever so slightly upwards, towards the lab tech's body heat, just how much the older man wanted physical contact.

And with those words, he was gone, grabbing a shirt from an open drawer and leaving the towel on the floor as he walked out of the room.

Nick took a deep breath as soon as Greg was gone from the room, not wanting to think about what the man had meant by that.